The Dancer and the Thief
by halfpipez
Summary: She's only ever had one person for an audience, and he keeps coming back every night with a new escapade. He's like a customer who pays with adventure instead of gold. ON HIATUS.
1. Capture

So I decided to redo this story after putting a whole lot of thought into where it was going. It didn't feel right where it was headed, so I decided to change it up. The first part of this chapter is the same as the original, though the story obviously goes a different way than the original.

With this new version comes better grammar from me (thank you Writer's Craft!) and an overall better plot (I've actually planned it out this time instead of wondering about it with each new chapter). Hopefully updates will come out faster too! But that's no promise, so please don't hold me to it!

Now, enjoy!

* * *

The corridors of the palace were empty, for all its inhabitants were sleeping. The walls, lined with murals of Egyptian Gods, and sconces which held candles that dimly lit the lavish hallways were only marred by a shadow, whose footsteps were muffled into silence by the red carpets that covered the tiled floors. It was the creeping shadow of the tomb thief, Bakura. As he walked in the open light of the moon inside the palace, he could only think of so many things. Like the massacre of Kul Elna. It was weird to think of something that happened so long ago, but to the silver-haired thief, that event seemed to control his life

He wasn't in a good mood that night, and yet he found it impossibly difficult to try and steal as he usually did many nights before. Instead he roamed aimlessly through the palace, careful not to arouse anyone from their sleep. Sometimes he would visit the Pharaoh's room, only to leave through the window because it was cowardly to kill someone in his sleep. The guards were few, so he had the freedom to wander as he pleased, and that's what he did. Walking around wherever he wanted, wherever his heart took him. It was strangely relaxing, and gave him peace of mind, even if he was in his enemy's territory.

It was just like any other night that he would visit this palace. The palace that held all the Millennium Items, the palace that had destroyed his village just to make those forsaken items. But tonight wasn't the night to be violent. Not yet, for the time would come when he would be able to take back what was his, knowing that they might attack him for it. But they had stricken the first blow, this was only his payback. The thief king didn't like to call it revenge, as it wasn't to his tastes to take revenge. Only payback. And there was a fine line in between the two.

As he quietly walked through the corridors which had become so familiar to him, he heard music, faintly playing. It was so soft that the rest of the palace couldn't hear but a pin drop. The thief king became curious, as he never came across anyone else on these self-instructed tours of the palace. He listened carefully for the tune at all the doorways he passed, finally finding the one in which the melody played. He placed his hand on the doorknob, hesitating slightly – something he never did. He was afraid of what was on the other side.

He breathed, calming himself, and entered the room, the side on which he was, was thankfully covered in shadows by the balconies above him. He recognized this room as the theatre, or something extremely similar to one. A raven-haired girl was in the middles, twirling to the soft melody that was playing. Her body was immersed in the rhythm of the song, her lips were moving soundlessly to the lyrics, and even her fingers twitched as if playing the very instruments that created the music she was dancing to. Bakura couldn't help but stare in curiosity at the moonlit figure in front of him.

She was plain, dressed in a turquoise fitted dress that flowed to her knees and swayed with her movements, and wore no jewelry, except golden cuffs on her wrists and arms, as well as her ankles. One thing that stood out though, was the blue flower pinned into her black hair. When the song was finished, she posed in place, breathing heavily, and dropped to the floor in exhaustion. Bakura clapped slowly and her head jerked up in surprise from the sudden interruption.

"Who's there?" Her voice was much different from the flow and ebb of her dancing, being hard and demanding. Though, he guessed, the circumstances were probably the reason.

He drifted around the theatre, wondering why he'd never visited it before. In fact, he couldn't really remember being around this part of the palace before. Was it new? Or maybe all the corridors were symmetrical and he thought he was wandering the east wing like usual?

He could see that her eyes were trying to track him, though the whisper of her robes against the sandy floors were her only clue as to where he was. Her brow furrowed, though she showed no sign of fear; only annoyance.

"Come out, right now! Before I call the guards!"

Feisty too, he noted with amusement. He'd happily stick around if this was what he would be sharing air with. He momentarily forgot why he had been angry in the first place and considered living in the vicinity of the Pharaoh. Even if he was in the dungeons, he could always escape and steal an unused room for himself. _Let them come, then._

A large bell near the door sounded, clanging loudly as she pulled on the thick rope. He could hear the guards lumbering towards the theatre, and smirked. It could end all too easily if he wanted it to. Summoning his Ka only took minimal effort, and the guards only had their physical strength to contend with. But that would only scare the poor girl.

He jumped down from the balcony he had climbed to and swept the girl quite literally off her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise, and though her lips had parted, no noise had pierced the night. He smirked. "You're coming with me for the night."

That sounded much less vulgar in his mind than it had aloud. _Oh well... She still hasn't objected._

The guards had barely opened the doors, and Bakura had already dashed into the night. Finding his horse still diligently waiting for him, he settled the girl on it before climbing aboard himself. "We're going on a bit of an adventure, if you don't mind," He told her, pulled lightly on the reins.

"I do mind, actually," She said, though her tough voice was betrayed with her look of fear.

"Don't like horses, hmm?" He chuckled lowly. "You'll be used to it in a moment."

His horse gave a start, but began to rush off into the desert before they could raise a commotion in the village. She grabbed his around his torso tightly, obviously worried about falling off.

"Take me back to the palace!" She demanded, her voice cracking slightly as he sped up.

"I don't think so... Not yet anyway."


	2. Trial and Error

Author's Note: Hello! I've decided to rewrite this story entirely, because it was going somewhere that wasn't planned. This time, however, it's completely planned out and will be much better. So I suggest you go back and read the first chapter, since it's much different, but in my opinion, much more interesting. Trust me, the first draft was going nowhere fast.

Hope this doesn't ruin it for anyone who subscribed!

* * *

It had taken three days; less than expected, though Bakura's opinion of the Palace Guard had always been low. He'd also been covering his tracks lightly, so Bakura's only other excuse was that he'd been going easy. Amunet, as he had come to know her by, was safe and sound with her mother and sister on one side of the throne room, while he was standing on the red carpets that led straight to the throne itself. On it sat a confused yet mildly interested Pharaoh-in-training.

According to the Priest who led him here, chains and all, the Pharaoh's son would be witnessing his trial, since he was on an expedition of sorts. Bakura had no complaints about that little tidbit of information, and took it as a sign of good luck. Fresh, inexperienced blood meant for an easier trial and a slap on the wrist. Nothing too big to worry about. Bakura would be surprised if he even had to explain himself.

After three days with Amunet, Bakura would even be surprised if she didn't come to his defence.

They were spent mostly chatting, and living off of the supplies the oasis gave them. She slowly learned to trust his horse, whom she had named Al-Fadee.

"'The Redeemer?' Nice choice," Bakura said, smirking as she told him. "I'm guessing you've changed your opinion of horses?"

She had shaken her head. "No, just this one," She corrected.

The Priests were still discussing how the trial would go about. Usually it was straightforward, but from what Bakura could gather, this wasn't ordinary. Crime, theft, and sin were the norm for these trials, but kidnapping apparently didn't fall under theft. Bakura shrugged, looking back to Amunet, who was assuring her mother that she was fine.

He smirked again, watching as she threw her arms up in frustration.

"I told you, mother! He fed me, there was plenty of water, he never hit me or made me do anything against my will... And no, he did not kidnap me!" She explained, exasperated.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were going out?"

"Because I didn't know I was until he took me."

"Doesn't that mean he kidnapped you?"

"I went willingly. You can't kidnap someone if they happily go with you."

Her mother gave her a strange look. She then huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "I give up. You're crazy. When this trial is over, you're going to your room and you're not going out until I say you can. You're also forbidden to see even a hair of him!" She pointed dramatically at her captor.

_Not if I have anything to say about that._ Bakura thought, digging the dirt out from under his nails. He grinned to himself. _At least this'll be fun._

It took a while, but finally one of the Priest's came forward to announce the start of the trial. The chatter died down almost immediately. The Pharaoh-in-training stood up from the throne and smiled at him, though Bakura couldn't tell whether it was sincere or not. He figured with the reputation he had gained for himself, it was probably more along the lines of a grimace.

"Hello, Amunet told me your name was Bakura, right?" He asked.

_Starting off slowly, hmm? Well, the more of a rookie, the slower this has to be. _"Yes, it is." He tapped his foot impatiently.

"Has she told you my name?"

"Anyone who doesn't know your name would be an idiot, wouldn't you say, Atem? I'm almost certain there was a huge ceremony for you hair alone, never mind your birth."

Atem's smile grew a fraction, but he seemed to ignore Bakura's brash sarcasm. "She also told me that you took her on a kind of... shall I say, vacation?"

"If she said so, then it's probably true. You don't need confirmation from a criminal, do you?"

Once again, his smile widened. "No, I guess I don't."

"So what's my punishment?"

"You're the one who hates me, my father, and my council, right Bakura? So I have one more question before we skip ahead to the consequences of what we're still trying to justify as an offence," Atem explained smoothly.

"Shoot." Bakura crossed his arms, his look of nonchalance failing to affect Atem in any way.

"What were you trying to accomplish when you took Amunet away for this vacation?"

"Well, even you can't be blind enough to not see how captivating she is, right Atem?" He heard a gasp to his left and assumed it was Amunet. He smirked, continuing. "And I think that if you want to court someone, then you should be as straightforward as you can about it, don't you agree?"

"So this has nothing to do with me?" Atem asked.

"Neither you, nor your bastard father, had anything to do with this," Bakura replied scathingly.

Atem and his council bristled at the comment, but nodded in understanding. "Since Amunet has convinced me that you haven't done anything wrong, I'll let you go."

As he expected. "Great. I'll be going now."

He turned around to leave but Atem shook his head. "Not yet."

Bakura cracked his knuckles and folded his arms back up. "And why not?" He asked, a dangerous tone tinting his voice.

One of the Priest's, the one who had brought him to his trial, stepped forward. Bakura watched him from the corner of his eye, maintaining his staring contest with Atem. A minute or so passed, and the Pharaoh's son finally spoke.

"This is Mahaad. He was my caretaker and friend when I was a child, and he still is," He explained. "I'm going to be keeping you within our grounds, including the village outside of the palace walls. Since you're so intent on making Amunet yours, you might as well have a fair chance."

"So what's he got to do with it?" Bakura nodded towards Mahaad.

"He's going to make sure you don't stray very far. Consider it a kind of house-arrest."

Their eyes had never disconnected, and Bakura was trying to decipher his expression. _Unreadable,_ He determined. "So how's he going to keep me here?"

"His Millennium Item acts as a compass, allowing him to track just about anything. That, and he's a magician. His spells, as long as his powers are stable, will make certain that you wander no further than the boundaries of the village." Atem told him.

"Sounds fun." Bakura smirked. "See you around then."


	3. Nightly Wanderings

Hey all! Here's the next chapter :) Just a note before you continue reading: Bakura (at least to me) seems out of character in this chapter if you read his lines like a normal person. While I was writing them, I imagined the YGO:TAS version of him saying his lines. It makes much more sense with his sarcastic and often belittling tone than with a normal voice. So try reading their voices like their actual canon characters, and it might not seem so out of character! Plus, it adds to the story if you read it that way :)

Anyway, enough of my babbling! Enjoy!

* * *

For the most part, Bakura had taken to hanging around the market and wandering around the palace. He had already memorized the palace layout from his nightly visits before, but came to find many hidden passages and narrow crevices that led elsewhere. Unfortunately, the palace was always bustling with people, so he never had a chance to explore on his own. If there wasn't a group of giggling girls or a lone priest passing by, it was a maid or servant, so no corridor was ever empty.

However, Bakura, had yet to find out where Amunet's room was. He took no time to seriously ponder over it, but found himself drawn to the theatre room every night in the hopes of finding her there.

On his sixth night, he instead encountered a very much awake Pharaoh-in-training.

"Hello there," Atem greeted duly, putting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the stands. "And what brings you to the so-called temple of the arts?"

"Who else but a certain raven-haired dancer?" Bakura responded lightly. "However, it is clear that she isn't here, so I'll be taking my leave."

"You don't have to."

Bakura raised his brow in interest. "You don't mind the company of a felon?"

"Not really, no." Atem admitted. "I like to get to know them as an individual before I judge them, and unlike my council, I think you're just a little misunderstood."

"A little?" Bakura scoffed, joining Atem at the centre of the room. "Try a lot. You and your _father_ caused me more pain than you can imagine. The spirits of Kul Elna are practically grovelling at my feet right now, telling me to kill you right here, right now."

"But you aren't going to, right?" Atem asked, though Bakura had the sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer. Instead of telling him his real intentions, Bakura turned away and kept silent. Atem chuckled quietly. "I guess you're not rushing over anything," He said finally.

"No. Rushing things usually ends up in a chaotic mind. I like to think that it's all in the execution." Bakura nodded. "Yes, taking the time to plan something just to see it unfold the way you wanted it to is much more satisfying than jumping right into fray. Though jumping can also have its rewards."

"Like it did when you spontaneously decided to take Amunet away?"

"Yes, actually."

Atem hesitated before posing his next question, obviously having thought about it for a while. Bakura smirked. _He thinks he's treading on eggshells around me._

"What did you do with her? Three days and three nights together seems like a long time to get to know someone one-on-one," Atem said carefully. "I talked to her this afternoon and she says she had fun, but refuses to divulge any more information."

At some point during their conversation, he had started to walk around. Bakura always found that moving around made the palace residents more comfortable around him, and he was once again proved right. Bakura easily matched his strides with that of his companion and pretended he was deep in thought.

"Well, if she doesn't want to tell you anything, why should I disrespect her wishes?" He asked, his eyes narrowing. "Unless she told you to ask me, since it's at my discretion?"

Bakura knew that more than half of the palace's residents wanted to know the story, but so far all they knew was that he held her captive while she willingly left with him for three days and three nights before they were found by the palace guard; and that was as far as he was going to let the gossip go.

"You can talk to me if you want," Atem told him. "She did say that she'd rather you told the story to me instead."

"Well, maybe some other time. Right now I think I'm going to retire for the night." Bakura left the room, his footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty theatre.

After the door shut, Atem just smiled to himself and decided that he'd better get to bed too.

_Is this what it's like to lead a normal life?_ Bakura had asked this question many times during his arrest, and realized that he couldn't decide whether he liked it or not. It was interesting, doing medial things that he otherwise would never do, and meeting people without pickpocketing them first. It was now exactly a week since he had first been put under the boundaries of the village and palace, and he was getting a little bored.

Not being able to explore as he wanted to was part of that problem. There was only one wing of the palace that he wasn't allowed to set foot in, and that was the south-west side. He assumed it was the part they gave to the priests, and he could think of no real reason to want to go there. However, as he decided to disobey and go there anyway, he realized that it wasn't the priest's wing at all.

He passed each door, some open for him to peer inside, some closed but voices travelled through the walls despite that. He could recognize the chef that he had scared half to death when he barged into his kitchen demanding food. He seemed to be talking to someone, but he couldn't see who. Another room held three girls who were talking about the upcoming event and what they should wear. According to the snippets of conversation he heard, they were entertainers. One was trying on various headdresses, to which her friends would either approve or shoot down. As he passed another door, it slammed shut and he could hear the start of a heated argument.

_So this must be where Amunet lives._ He wondered vaguely why they would keep him away from the one person he was staying for, but didn't get too far in his train of thought.

"You!" A woman came out of one of the rooms and pointed accusingly at him. "Get out of here!"

From what Bakura could remember, she was Amunet's mother. She was carrying a basket of clothes, no doubt on her way to do the laundry. He mentally applauded her for her guts to stand up to him.

"So it was you who requested that I be banned from this area," He noted. "No surprises there. Hmm... I knew there was something about this place that made me think I wasn't headed to the kitchen."

"Well now you know, so kindly take your leave," She demanded.

"Right then, how about I help you carry that?" He offered, taking the laundry basket away from her before she could protest. If anything, he could get to know her mother better.

She hmph'd and walked on ahead, Bakura trailing behind her. Most of the doors that had previously been open were now shut. Maybe she hadn't been the only one who wanted to keep him out.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'm still contemplating over what kind of personality Amunet's mother should have, since she's supposed to play an important role in the next chapter. Sorry if you were all hoping for some more Bakura/Amunet interaction, but that'll come later! Promise!

Tell me what you thought about this chapter, I'm thinking of editing it a bit more!


	4. Laundry Chatter

Silence. Bakura could hardly even hear her footsteps as she led the way to the washing room. Come to think of it, she hadn't even uttered her name, so he didn't really know what to call her. Multiple times he had opened his mouth, only to shut it, feeling like an idiot.

_What the hell is even appropriate to say to this woman?_ He wondered, a little frustrated with himself. _I mean, I can't just go out and say 'Well, your daughter's quite the catch!'_ There were quite a few ways that phrase could have been taken, and with his first impression, he could safely assume that her mind would go into the worst case scenario. He didn't exactly want to convince her that he didn't pull anything while he was with her for three days straight. Even the exact number of hours he spent with Amunet weren't on his side. Anything could've happened. Not that it did, of course.

Shifting the laundry basket in his hands for the third time, he finally decided to say something. At this point, whatever he said would be taken in some wrong way or another, so he found that it really didn't matter.

"I'm Bakura, by the way." A nice, safe start, he figured. Though, his tone could have been a little friendlier. _Oh well._

"I know that already," She responded, her tone suggesting that he shut up. Of course, he didn't heed this warning and continued anyway.

"So, what do you do in the palace?"

"I make an honest living." Again with the short, obviously annoyed, answer. Though she surprised him by continuing a moment later with, "But I guess you don't know how to do that, do you?"

He smirked. So this is where Amunet picked up her attitude. Whether this banter was in good humour or not, he'd enjoy it. "Well, I have quite a few skills that could help me with building such a living, but don't you find these menial tasks boring and repetitive?" He asked. "Adventure is much more appealing to the mind, and it's adventure that'll keep a person sharp and ready for the real world, unlike laundry and henna."

"So is that what you did with my daughter? Take her away from her family and her home to show her the 'real world' and all of its wonders?" She asked, refusing to turn around and look him in the eye.

"Not its wonders, per se, but you could say that," Bakura said, feeling a minor victory coming his way. "And I have to say, she seemed to enjoy it much more than... well, _this_."

He saw her fists clench up from beneath the flapping beige fabric of her sleeves. He could happily say that the tables had turned, as she was the frustrated one now.

"What's wrong with lives like ours? Some people enjoy doing what they do," She countered. "You probably know by now that Acenath – " She came to an abrupt halt, covering her mouth.

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Who's Acenath?"

"Ah, no one," She said a bit too quickly.

"Right then," Bakura said, his eyebrow hitching up higher. "Well at the very least you can tell me who _you_ are."

"I'm Zahra," She said, sounding flustered. They entered the washing room and Zahra headed toward one of the basins that wasn't being used.

"Flower, hmm?" He muttered thoughtfully, deciphering her name. "Interesting... Do you like flowers?" Bakura asked, getting an idea.

"Yes, why?" Zahra sounded suspicious.

"When I join you for dinner tonight, I want to bring something. Flowers would do nicely in a decorative vase, don't you think?"

She looked at him, very confused. Before she could object, he continued.

"Yes, I think flowers make for good gifts," He decided. "Well then, I guess we're here." He placed the laundry basket down and smirked, looking around to see the other women listening in on their conversation, completely ignoring their own washing. "See you tonight, I hope you like lotus'."

As much as Bakura would have liked to take pride in a debate well-done, in retrospect he probably shouldn't have looked down on their way of living as much. He grimaced, making his way back to his temporary quarters. _Not everyone lives like you do, genius._

Revenge had almost completely slipped his mind, and when he passed the throne room, he realized that he had only acted with an acceptable amount of respect for the Pharaoh-in-training. _Odd..._ He thought in confusion.

He shook his head, letting his greyish fringe fall over his face. Bakura had been thinking a lot lately, and it was starting to annoy him. Sticking to his way of life while living with the very man the spirits of Kul Elna so desperately wanted him to murder was an extremely hard feat to accomplish.

_Can't they lay off for a minute so I can think straight?_

He was so deep in his own thoughts that he barely noticed the girl rushing toward him. It was only when her feet stood directly in front of him when he finally stopped and looked up to see two green eyes watching him expectantly.

"Can I help you?" He asked, not in the mood to chat.

She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled at him. "Yes, you can! Come with me." She said cheerfully, grabbing his hand and pulling him off into another corridor. "My name's Mana. I'm Mahaad's apprentice and he wants to see you. I don't really know why, but it seemed kinda important."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay then." He shook his hand out of her grasp and watched as she began skipping away. So there were knowledgeable people who didn't like him, and then there were little girls who seemed to be completely ignorant and treated him like a friend. _Right then._

"Oh, by the way, I think Isis wanted to talk to you too. She looked worried last time you were mentioned at one of the council's dinners," Mana told him. "And she's probably gonna tell you something about your future or something., you know? So heads up for the fortune-telling episode where you find out your life is filled with darkness or something."

"It already is, I don't need to be reminded," Bakura shrugged.

* * *

Ahhhhh figured I'd upload a chapter before I go away on vacation to Mexico! I'll admit, I had this chapter written for a week or two but I kept thinking it wasn't good enough and had no idea how to end it. Sorry if the last line sounded a little emo! lol :)

I'll have my laptop while in Mexico, and will be writing up stories every night when we're relaxing at the resort. Hopefully I'll at least have a chapter ready and done with for when I come back home in a week!

So if you like Beyblade, or prefer to stick to my Yu-Gi-Oh! stories, I'll probably write a lot of one-shots for them while I'm in Mexico and upload them! Thank goodness for free wi-fi! :D

See you next chapter!


	5. Troubling Thoughts

Hello all, and welcome to the next chapter! I can't believe I made you wait almost a month for this one! I feel kinda bad... but one scene in this was giving me a hard time. I guess there were a lot of difficult decisions to deal with in this chapter...

In any case, for those who want to know what happened in the three days and three nights when Bakura and Amunet were at the oasis, then you'll be excited for the end of this chapter and the entirety of the next chapter!

Remember to review and tell me if you like it :)

* * *

Columns began lining the halls, a change from the more plain walls that lined the worker class areas. Colourful tapestries were draped over the walls behind the pillars, depicting the war between Upper and Lower Egypt; the war of the Millenium Items. Bakura scoffed. They may have ended the war, but the spirits wanted him to start a new one.

_The greater good can go take a hike..._

"Do you like the palace so far?" Mana asked, taking him away from his increasingly dark thoughts. He was almost grateful.

"It's alright," Bakura shrugged. "But nothing compares to the view of the night sky."

"Oh yeah, that's right, you're an exile! I totally forgot!" Mana admitted cheerfully. "Well, in any case, Atem keeps saying you're a good person. You may curse the Pharaoh, but you have your reasons and they are to be respected."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, but hid his expression a second later when she turned around.

"And anyway, you're just like all of us. You're looking for a home."

Bakura was definitely confused. Was she really the hyperactive and naive girl everyone kept scolding? _She's more intelligent than she lets on._

Mana started to hum lightly, and soon they arrived in the council's wing of the palace. "Here's where we all live! Like it?" She twirled around, gesturing grandly at the rooms.

"Yeah, sure."

"Anyway, Mahaad's room is right... Here!" She stopped in front of the fifth door and opened it up wide.

Bakura stepped in after her and looked around, curious to see the difference between the priest's rooms and the residents. The room was more like an apartment, with halls of its own leading off into different rooms. He could smell incense, and saw three sticks burning on the table between the two couches that were placed across from one another. Cinnamon, he noted.

"Hey Mahaad! I brought Bakura for you!"

Mahaad sighed, getting up from his seat next to Isis. "Mana, you don't have to be so loud you know. If you wake Seth again, I don't know how he'll fare on his night shift."

Mana pouted, crossing her arms. "How else am I supposed to get your attention? Ever since you and Atem – "

"I know, we've been too busy to play games with you. Sorry."

"You better be!"

Isis smiled. "Mana, he and I both are. Now, we have business to attend to with Bakura, so we'll see you at dinner tonight, okay?"

"You always have business!" Mana complained.

Mahaad touched his temples and sighed again. "I'm really sorry Mana, but these are direct orders from the Pharaoh. Thank you for bringing him to me."

"That's all I get? Thanks?"

"How about I teach you that levitation spell in our next lesson?"

Mana lit up at that and grinned. "Promise?" She asked, holding out her pinky.

"I promise," He linked his pinky with hers momentarily before letting go. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Later," Bakura muttered after she hugged her master goodbye. _She changed attitudes fast... I can see why they call her hyperactive now._

There was a moment of awkward silence Bakura and Mahaad when the door closed, and they took the chance to size each other up. Mahaad was dressed in his formal priest clothing, which seemed to be a kind of personalized uniform, as his clothes had been the same at his trial. Isis, who was still seated on the plush couch, had her hands clasped in her lap. She was staring determinedly at the floor, and Bakura could only deduce that their reason for wanting to see him must be either bad news or something they didn't agree with.

"So you must have heard that the Pharaoh arrived back at the palace early this morning," Mahaad said, gesturing for him to take a seat.

"I heard, but I chose to ignore the festivities and made plans of my own so I don't have to see him," Bakura told him, sitting down across from the two High Priest's.

"Yes, I know you have," Isis admitted. "I was keeping a watch on you while Mahaad tended to the Pharaoh this morning and saw that you made dinner plans with the family of the girl you are courting."

"And while I was talking to the Pharaoh, he told me to invite you to his 'Welcome Back' dinner tonight," Mahaad explained.

"He said you'd be the guest of honour, and that you should take the seat beside him at the table, directly across from Atem," Isis said, shifting uncomfortably. "He was very specific about his plans, and he's ecstatic about meeting you."

Silence. Then,"Tell him I'm not interested," Bakura said bluntly. "I have no reason of my own to want to see him"

Mahaad and Isis glanced warily at each other before looking back to Bakura. There was no doubt that they were wondering why he was refusing without a second thought. Isis frowned, however Mahaad's reaction was the opposite. Bakura would have wondered why if it hadn't been for Isis' next question.

"No reason of your own?" Isis repeated.

"Yes, that's what I said."

Mahaad frowned. "Well, in that case, we have a reason for you. That is, if you decide to use it."

Bakura placed his ankle over his knee and folded his arms, "I'm listening, though I'd still rather see Amunet and her mother than your pathetic excuse for a Pharaoh. After all, who would want to be in the same room as a murderer?"

Mahaad was about to protest, but Isis put her hand over his. They had no knowledge of what he was referring to, and both decided that they didn't want to know. But even still, why did this lowly thief speak slander of their King?

"Remember, Mahaad," She reminded him. "We are all to treat him with the utmost respect while he's here, even if he doesn't reciprocate," She whispered, watching them both as they once again began to stare each other down. Sighing, she picked up all three incense sticks. "Have one, it will open your hearts and emotionally calm you," She said, handing one to each of them while taking a deep breath of her own.

Bakura held his precariously in his hand, the smell of cinnamon drifting upwards. "I heard it also brings wealth and success, as well as love."

Isis nodded, looking down at her hands. "Yes, it does."

"What kind of success were you hoping for?"

She hesitated. Smoke curled toward the ceiling from each of their hands. Mahaad watched as ash fell from his own. "We were hoping for your refusal, but since it conflicted with our King's desire to have you there, the final decision is really up to you. I was also hoping for a peaceful conversation rather than an argumentative one."

Bakura nodded. "Well then, I'll have to agree with you. I don't think it's a very good idea to make me go, and I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't push the matter."

Why was it that whenever the Pharaoh was mentioned, the spirits of Kul Elna had a riot? Bakura touched a hand to his temple, wincing. Living in the palace was harder than he thought it would be. If this kept up...

"I'm afraid we have to push the matter," Mahaad told him. "He has decided that he wants you there. You may not follow the code and conduct of the palace, or the laws of Egypt, but if you wish to continue living here as you do, then sacrifices have to be made."

Bakura scowled. "Alright, since you've made me come, then you'll let Amunet come too. I'm sure you have no qualms about this condition?"

Again, the two priest's exchanged glances. "No, we don't. You may let her come with you as your plus one, so if anyone questions her presence in front of the Pharaoh, you'll have a reason."

"Are we done then?"

"Yes, you may leave."

Bakura inhaled the smoke of the incense stick before dropping it to the floor. "Now then, maybe your cinnamon might have an effect on tonights events as well."

When the door shut behind him, Mahaad frowned.

"Is there something wrong?" Isis asked.

"There's something not right about him... Ever since he's come, my Millennium Ring has been acting suspiciously."

Isis nodded. "Well, I too have that same feeling. My Millennium Tauk has done nothing but warn me of darkness, but other times it changes its vision completely and shows me a shining future."

"Should we ask the Pharaoh about this?"

Isis hesitated. "No, I do not think this should concern him. We already know that he hates the Pharaoh, it wouldn't change anything."

-.-.-.-

The spirits were acting up, darkening his thoughts and never shutting up. They were once his fellow villagers and beloved family, but now that they were vengeful spirits, he didn't seem to care.

_I'll do what I came here to do._ The line had become a mantra in his head. It used to be his goal, but now it was almost as if he was trying to convince himself. Bakura, in all truth, no longer wanted to take revenge for anything. Not yet. He was only sixteen, and had barely gotten to do much other than steal and play hide and seek, usually with the high stakes of being arrested if he was found. It wasn't exactly the way he wanted to live, but the way he'd been forced to.

His thoughts darkened again, no doubt under the influence of the entire village that inhabited his head. As his fingers flexed, wanting to reach for his dagger, wanting to do what the spirits desired, he tried to remind himself that it was their will and not his own. Footsteps sounded, ones that couldn't be his own since he had halted moments ago. As his hand inched closer to his dagger, a hand came down on his shoulder.

The next thing Bakura saw with his own eyes was Amunet, pinned down on the floor with a blade almost touching her neck.

Her brown eyes widened considerably and his breath hitched. He flipped the blade back into its sheath and helped her up. "I'm... sorry..." He looked away, wishing to cast her look of fear from his mind.

Amunet nodded, taking his hand. "So something _was_ wrong," She affirmed. "Was it the..."

"Yeah..."

"Do you want – "

"That would be nice."

"Let's go."

He grimaced as her soft hand took ahold of his own weathered one. Bakura already knew where she was taking him. The theatre was the only place they knew would be empty, unless the Pharaoh-in-training had decided to take up Bakura's habit of visiting it every night.

"Does it hurt?" He hadn't seen any blood, but that didn't mean that he didn't bruise her in the process.

Amunet shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"You know, the Pharaoh wants me to attend his welcome back banquet."

"So you'll be cancelling your dinner plans with us?"

"They said I could invite you." He had said it before she had the time to get offended, and hoped that she'd accept the invitation without as much trouble as he had. He was almost certain he'd either be bored or tempted by the spirits if she wasn't there with him.

"You asked them?"

"Will you?"

"If it helps to have a distraction."

At first she hadn't believed him, but over time she had seen proof of the spirit's existence. Many secrets had been spilled during their time at the oasis, adventuring through the desert. Secrets that he didn't want to divulge to the court.

He sighed. "Thanks for not telling him anything."

"It's up to you, not me. I'd rather not be the source or subject of gossip."

"He told me that I could talk to him if I wanted to," Bakura smirked. "He said he doesn't judge someone until he gets to know them."

Amunet nodded. "Yes, he's a very understanding prince. If he offered to talk, maybe you should. He could help."

They arrived at the theatre, and climbed up the steps toward the balcony. Bakura sat down, folding his arms as he surveyed the room. "No one can just step in and help. Until I do what they want, they won't leave."

Amunet sighed, taking the seat beside him. Putting her hand over his, she smiled softly. "I'll help you find a way. Maybe you just need a new perspective?" She paused, thinking. "My perspective."

If only they could have gone back to the oasis, undisturbed by the lives of the palace's citizens and their shallow fears.


End file.
